


Persian

by immistermercury



Series: farsi! verse [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff, M/M, Photography, Why?, a little sequel to farsi - the morning after, but it's cute, freddie's still learning english, gratuitous nakedness, happy christmas!, he's a model, jim is the self confident bastard we know and love, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: “Good morning.” Jim murmured, voice low and rough, and Freddie shivered at the sound. He could tell Jim was hungover - he was hungover enough himself, or he figured that was what the headache was - but he didn’t mind when he met his lips in a lazy kiss, tasting of last night’s alcohol.“Sebh bekhar 'esheq men.” Freddie whispered lovingly, cupping his cheek.“I need to learn Persian.” Jim closed his eyes again, running his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “I could listen to you all day. I just need to know what it means.”
Relationships: Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Series: farsi! verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581055
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	Persian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aussiebornwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebornwriter/gifts).



> Happy Christmas! Have some gratuitous fluff that made me very happy to write!
> 
> Dedicated to Cliona again because this has been one of my most popular verses in a long while and it was her suggestion!

Freddie’s warm cheek pressed against Jim’s bare skin, the palm of his hand pressed against his stomach; he liked the difference between their skin tones, bronze against cool ivory, and Jim’s skin was far smoother than his own. He traced his fingers over the lazy bumps of his muscles as he slept, glancing up at his -

He faltered; he wanted to think of him as a lover, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

But he was beautiful, so peaceful as he slept, a youthful brightness in his cheeks; Freddie couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on his own face as he watched him. He propped himself up on one elbow to admire the creases that the pillow had made on his skin, the way his hair fluttered in his face when he breathed out. One finger tentatively touched his lower lip, remembering how they’d felt against his own as they’d kissed into the early hours of the morning, soft and warm and tasting of vodka and lemonade, at first strong and then fading as he kissed him more and more. He remembered how those lips had felt on his body, as they’d bitten marks on his neck, on his chest, on his stomach - he’d shyed away, forever the virgin, unsure of where to place his hands, but he’d been guided through so lovingly, so gently, and he’d never experienced ecstasy quite like it before.

He squealed as a languid arm wrapped back around his waist, pulling him in close and tight. He started to laugh and snuggled back up again, bringing the blanket up high around their bare bodies, and he could’ve purred when a strong hand gripped his hip and pulled his legs closer to tangle them together.

“Good morning.” Jim murmured, voice low and rough, and Freddie shivered at the sound. He could tell Jim was hungover - he was hungover enough himself, or he figured that was what the headache was - but he didn’t mind when he met his lips in a lazy kiss, tasting of last night’s alcohol.

“Sebh bekhar 'esheq men.” Freddie whispered lovingly, cupping his cheek. 

“I need to learn Persian.” Jim closed his eyes again, running his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “I could listen to you all day. I just need to know what it means.”

“Good morning, my love.” Freddie smiled, gently stroking the sun-warmed skin of his cheek. 

“Oh, you little romantic!” Jim made him squeal again as he was tugged onto Jim’s chest, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. 

Freddie’s cheeks blossomed pink and he leaned up to kiss him again, giggling when he traced a love heart on his side. “I think you are romantic more.” He murmured affectionately.

“You like the way I treat you?” Jim tilted his chin up and winked playfully. “I can do better than this.”

“You can?” Freddie asked in wonder.

“Of course!” He dropped another kiss on his cheek. “Why don’t I start by showing you my prowess in the kitchen?”

His face looked adorably confused and Jim couldn’t help himself but kiss him again. “Skills. Why don’t I show you my skills in the kitchen?”

Freddie started to smile again and nodded. “That would be lovely.” He agreed.

“Are you a coffee man?” Jim asked. “Or tea? Or orange juice?”

He hadn’t really ever had much tea or coffee, but he wanted to make a good impression; he was resolute that he’d try to sound confident. “Tea, please.” He grinned.

“Tea it is.” He picked his boxers off the floor and stood up, shimmying them on quickly; Freddie enjoyed the wriggle of his hips as he watched shamelessly. “English breakfast? Earl Grey? Chamomile? Peppermint? Green?”

Freddie wasn’t expecting the question; he was used to the masala chai sold by the lady on the stall at the end of his road, the cup he’d always grabbed when his classes were starting late and he was still heavy and sleepy and warm from a good night’s sleep. It had never occurred to him that the English might do it differently - he didn’t know what the difference between each type of tea was. “I think-” He faltered, trying to remember what he’d been offered. “Earl Grey?”

“Consider it done.” Jim grinned. “Milk and sugar?”

Freddie nodded, and Jim couldn’t contain a little laugh at his naivety. “How much, sweetheart?”

His cheeks coloured; he had no idea what he liked. He thought back to how tea had tasted in India, proper tea, warm and sweet - he didn’t like the idea of cold milk making his tea go cold. “A little bit of milk.” He said resolutely; he didn’t want to lose the milkyness. “Two sugars, please.”

Jim slid his arms under the covers and picked up Freddie, relishing his warm skin against his own - he was a little leaner, a little more muscular than him, and Jim couldn’t get over that beautifully thick chest hair that he’d spent too long kissing the night before, relishing how it tickled his throat. He was dressed in those skimpy boxers from the night before - he looked utterly sinful, and Jim could’ve eaten him alive - and nothing else, and Jim couldn’t help himself if he pressed a couple of kisses to the column of his throat when he tilted his head back. “You’re coming with me, then.”

Freddie giggled. “Take me.” He whispered.

Jim knew he didn’t know the connotations of what he was saying, but he kissed the shell of his ear lightly as he whispered _gladly._

Freddie laughed as he was carried down the stairs and sat on the kitchen counter, crossing one leg over the other demurely as though he were a decoration, as beautiful as a vase of fresh freesias. Jim found himself musing momentarily, watching the way his muscles moved when he stretched his arms above his head, that he would look wonderful with freesias in his hair, one pinned behind his ear and one in the hair at the nape of his neck, brushing soft curls with its light petals. He wondered if he’d ever considered modelling, and Jim could already see the first shot that he would take, the boy wound in Christmas lights, back arched and head tilted back and lips lightly parted.

He poured the tea and Freddie watched him curiously, wondering why the hell he was using so much water, but he still took the mug gratefully. He took a little sip, eyes widening in wonder as he didn’t get sweet milkyness, but warm citrus, followed by the cream of the milk and chased by sweet sugar - he smiled so widely that a little ran down his chin.

Jim grinned and kissed his cheek. “Nice?” He chuckled.

“Very.” Freddie said shyly, wiping the tea from his skin and then licking his finger, not missing the way Jim’s eyes followed his tongue. “Have you got food?”

“Of course I have!” Jim twirled on the tiled floor and went to the fridge. “Seeing as I like you, I’m happy to cook something nice. Sweet or savoury?”

He knew what sweet meant - sweet was pancakes, chocolate, sugar - and so he could only assume that the other word meant the opposite. He went to reply, but realised he’d forgotten what he’d said - _sweet and something?_

“The other one.” He murmured shyly, biting one of his fingernails. 

“Savoury? Leave it to me.” He smiled comfortingly.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Came another voice, walking into the kitchen and flicking the kettle on again. “Not made one for me?”

Freddie was mortified - he was sat in a random man’s kitchen in his boxers, which he would never have dreamed of if they hadn’t slept together the evening before, and now another _extremely fucking attractive_ guy was checking him out so obviously while he was so unbelievably exposed.

“I-” He stammered, cheeks scorched scarlet. “I- I use the bathroom.” He said, jumping off the side as quickly as he could and running back upstairs.

“You had a good night.” Roger elbowed Jim playfully, reaching over to get another mug. “He’s fucking loud, isn’t he?”

“First time.” He grinned, turning the oven on. 

“You fox!” He replied with a grin. “He’s beautiful.”

“He’s Persian. Well, he’s Indian, but he speaks Persian, so I don’t think he’s really from India. I think they speak Hindi.” He said, chest puffed with pride. “Just moved to London. I’m thinking I might take him out on a date, see how it goes.”

“I thought you didn’t date?” He teased. “A good shag and then off you go.”

“Usually.” Jim shrugged. “He’s different. He’s- he’s got this smile, which sounds ridiculous, I sound so emotional, but he- he’s one of the first guys who actually stayed the night.” A hint of a blush suffused across his cheeks and Roger whistled. “He’s gorgeous, and he’s sweet, and he seems to care about me, I feel like he’s worth a shot.”

“What’s the harm?” He agreed. “Might as well shoot your shot with a model.”

“He’s not a model.” Jim chuckled. “Well, he might be, but I doubt it. He’s only just moved here.”

Freddie stood in the door and rubbed his arm shyly, but there was a pleased smile across his face. “I was in India.” He told them both, now dressed a little more modestly in a stolen pair of tracksuit bottoms. 

“Told you.” Roger said smugly, holding a hand out for Freddie to shake. “I’m Roger, Jim’s housemate and general scoundrel.”

Freddie sent a little pleading glance to Jim - he seemed to be getting used to deciphering difficult words for him - and Jim wound a warm arm around his waist and pulled him close. “He means he’s a little naughty.” He whispered.

Freddie smiled up at him, looking a little too lovestruck for Roger’s liking. “I’m Freddie.” He replied shyly, looking back at Roger. “Model, art learner, new to England.”

* * *

What he lacked in confidence in his voice, he made up for in the confident arch of his back as he lay amongst the black satin sheets, eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. He smiled when he heard Jim’s whistle, flicking the switch for the fairy lights that were twined around his left leg, and smiled wider when he heard the catch of breath in his throat. “Enough?”

“What a shot.” Jim picked up his camera, taking a few seconds to admire the artfully arranged bend of his leg and the slight bulge in his boxers. “God, you look-”

“Incredible?” Freddie opened his eyes and smiled up at his lover. “Stunning? Gorgeous?”

“Edible.” Jim replied, taking another few shots as he threw his head back and laughed. “I would never have thought you’d wear so little.”

Freddie arched an eyebrow. “You, practically naked.” He clarified.

“I can’t speak, but I’m pretty.” He replied.

“You are.” Jim whispered, crouching between his legs to take another shot. “You’re beautiful.”

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened. “Boys aren’t beautiful in India.”

“Boys are beautiful everywhere. You prove that.” He replied, angling his camera to catch the redness of his lips. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Freddie laughed softly and rested his head on one bent arm, letting his eyes fall closed again. “You’re-” He faltered, suddenly turning shy. “You’re bad yourself.” He said, injecting more confidence in his voice to try to seem steady.

“It’s not bad, baby.” Jim took another shot and grinned. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“Why not bad?” He asked, propping himself up on one elbow. “It does not make sense.”

“Double negative. It means you’re good.” He chuckled.

“Why not say that?” He pressed on.

“People like to hide compliments. Nice things they say.” He smiled. “It’s an English thing.”

“I don’t like it.” He announced, sitting himself up a little. “You’re beautiful, and I love you.”

Jim grinned and leaned over to kiss his lips softly. “Dewsett darem.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments if you'd like more of this verse or if you've had a good Christmas, and I hope you enjoyed your Christmas present from me!
> 
> Also - I take requests! This whole 'verse is a request. If you have any Jim/Freddie that you're desperate to see (literally anything, smut to mpreg, canon to AU) then feel free to drop me a comment, a message on tumblr @/immistermercury, or a message on instagram @lily.curle (which you are also allowed to stalk if you want to see your author!)


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